


Short Kink meme fills

by dilcirisse



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:25:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dilcirisse/pseuds/dilcirisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1: Choices and regrets, Bilbo its sailing away to the afterlife. Could be considered deathfic<br/>2: Of flowers and hobbits, courtship and flower language<br/>3: Penance (not Thilbo) Bofur Bifur and Bombur fic, Possible Triggers: Alzheimer/Dementia parallels</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Choices and regrets

**Author's Note:**

> I put them on fanfiction.net but discovered their posting system to be incredibly annoying so I'll rather have them here.

If he had to name a regret, even here were the waves washing the ship hull seemed to do the same with his pains, it would be not having seen the kingdom under the mountain for the last time; his kingdom, his tomb. Fitting that with so many memory's lost in the past few years those fleeting, fragile months more than 80 years ago were still clear as the mirror in front of him, who had no such qualms of showing him the truth of the ravages of time.

-Would you even recognize me anymore? Would you still see the feather headed spirited burglar who ran in your trail, or would you sneer at this fragile wilted shadow of him?

In the end it didn't matter, there would be no reunion, he was on this ship, with Frodo and Gandalf, one last adventure to a place of legends, and he was, who knew were he was. Did hobbits and dwarfs even go to the same place, was there a place at all? Maybe he had a kingdom there, a throne under the mountain, sitting to the right of his father, and grandfather, with all of those that came before. Corny wishful thinking it maybe be, but the alternative, of him being lost forever to the mists of death, dragged chocked sounds of anguish like claws on his chest. It was to late now, to take that chance, to stay and hope. Because; who would choose death over this white ship and its promise? Nobody that's it, nobody except him and not even because he hadn't found the courage or the clarity to do it. It had been a long time since he had felt the weight of his years like he was doing now, with each pain that went away memory and regret took its place, more heavy than any earthly malaise could be, not even while he had...not even while he had IT. Better not to go that road, it was gone and that particular burden with it. He should be counting his blessing's, go to the deck with Frodo, listen to someone else's adventures for a change instead of sulking the hours away, that he wouldn't like, he knew. Well then it wouldn't do right? he should start with up then, small steps.

-Uncle, I am glad to see you up, are you feeling better?

His dear Frodo, with so much to live and to heal ahead of him, something else he was to blame for to, and the dragging guilt of knowing that if he could, if he had the choice he would leave, again. But he had Gandalf didn't he? Gandalf would take care of Frodo, he always had, but he didn't had a choice, nowhere to go but ahead.

There is always a choice.

Now, that was interesting, specially since Frodo kept watching over the sea blissfully unaware, unless it was a figment of his senile mind.

There is always a choice Bilbo Baggins, is this yours?

Was it? Life or death, Frodo or... And shouldn't he take the sensible one? But maybe, maybe it was time to close his eyes and take another jump, like he did that morning he ran out of his living room towards the world. Let time take his due, that was his choice, if nothing else let it serve as penance.

So be it -Uncle whats wrong? Uncle...

The soft murmurs mixed and clashed with Frodo's panicked screams while the world faded to black, and it was Frodo's voice what welcomed him back from the black.

-I don't understand

-He is dying

The poor lad had apparently dragged the remaining white council to his beside, even Lord Elrond seemed distraught, he wished he could speak and put their fears to rest but he could barely feel his own body, was this death?

-But Gandalf you said...

-Yes dear lad, this shouldn't be happening, and we appear powerless to stop it.

But no he couldn't let this feeling lull him to complacency he had to say goodbye, he owed Frodo that, at the least. His voice when it came out hardly sounded like its own.

-Frodo my dear boy...

-Uncle, please hold on, we can...

-No lad, not this time, this is my choice, its time to leave Frodo I am so very sorry, I hope you''ll forgive me for my selfishness.

That seemed to do it, he had no force left but his point had come across if Lord Elrond down turned eyes and Gandalf tight smile and clear eyes were any indicator, tough Lady Galadriel countenance kept the same mysterious quality as always. But Frodo kept shaking his head with wet cheeks.

-Don't give up uncle, don't let it defeat you...

The lady was placing a soft gentle hand on Frodo's

-Do not worry your heart Frodo Baggins, for your uncle will be fine, after all, why else would he be here now?

Now that didn't make sense, of course he was here, were else would...Oh, apparently that he wasn't for him, now who would had tough that.

-You are late hobbit, like always, got lost in another dark tunnel?

Apparently he couldn't move but his eyes were still perfectly capable because everything was suddenly very wet and the world had stop moving for him outside the figure beside him.

-There its no time to be lazy, up you go.

Somehow he managed to find his voice

-I cant.

And hadn't he missed that laugh, deep and regal, even when gently condescendingly.

-Of course you can, common.

And he could apparently, who knew a extended hand could work so well to forget his weak bones, he felt so light to as if he had lost more than half his age while raising from the bed...oh...that was him on the bed to, with Frodo and Gandalf, but no, that wasn't him, not anymore. It was warm to, to bury his head in the coat fur, he hoped his wet smile was enough for Frodo to understand because he couldn't speak, it was to much, the warm, the fur the arms around him, and the whispers on his ear's.

-Silly hobbit, don't cry, the others are waiting.

And they were weren't there? Because the world was fading around the lips on his neck and he could ear a song and voices.

-Its that Bilbo? Hurry up the wine will run out. Well someone had to come and save the china. Do we have a handkerchief?

Yes the world was warm and perfect and it smelt like his pantry.

\----  
Original prompt:  
http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=97726#t97726


	2. Of flowers and hobbits

The first time Bilbo saw Thorin Oakenshield his heart skipped a beat, then went crazy even while the dwarf mocked him, and he would be lying if he said that wasn't what made him run out the door the next morning. What he wouldn't tell anybody was that even while running he made sure to stop and store a small bouquet of Gloxinia's on his vest, just above his thundering heart. He its pretty sure that this loud, rough and cave dwellings beings courtship methods must be as different from the hobbits as they could, he has some vague fantasies about jewelry and precious stones being traded back and forth, but he makes sure his first approach is a subtle one.

The opportunity comes right after Balin's retelling of the battle of Azanulbizar, Bombur sends him to pick Fennel from the edges of the camp close to where the king keeps watch. Sensing a golden opportunity, away from any possible public humiliation, he gathers his wits and present's him with a small flowering branch. Thorin eyes it, and him, with a blank face then thanks him obviously confused, Bilbo leaves so sure now that the dwarf wont have any idea of his intentions that he misses how the branch disappears on the folds of a furred coat. His next one its more bold interweaving a fern he found by the abandoned farmer house on the other bridle, he only gets a raised eye this time but the fern stays. The same night, he messes up and almost gets them all cooked, but the proud king dropping his sword for him had been the last thing he expected so he puts some pretty and small Agrimony's on the coat pocket after they explore the troll cave.

The advantage of bunking with the elves made themselves know quick when he can actually get some cultivated flowers and do a white Lily's bracelet that he attaches to the leather gauntlet always on Thorin, there are other dwarfs close by but the few faces that drift toward them keep a blank expression and don't linger long. Looking in retrospective Bilbo should had suspected something when the normally overwhelming company had kept so quiet while he covered their fearless leader in flowers, but he remained blissfully unaware on his private fantasy were he could court a king without fear or heartbreak. Not wanting to miss the opportunity he grabs some dawn dew-drenched Gardenia's while they leave, this time they end hanging from Thorin backpack like little snowballs.

From there on the travel turns into a living nightmare of hail, thunder, rocks, goblins, rings, wargs and orcs. Is not till he almost loses him just to barely get him back by sheer force of will, after everything changes between them at the top of a stone spire with a hug and they are all safe, finally, that he has the luxury to think of flowers again. Gandalf's friend, Beorn, happens to like bees a lot, they are big fluffy things and there are flowers everywhere, its here that he first gets a flower back. With their new found attachment still fresh they had barely left the other presence for long but Bilbo's heart still skips a beat when, after presenting the dwarf with a honey flower from the multicolored patch they are currently sitting, he gets a Daisy in return, scarily appropriated. Thorin's face is guileless and open at his side tough and he convinces himself the dwarf was only trying to return the favor of his flower obsessed friend without any idea of meaning or intention, even after he gets a soft kiss on his hand.

Its the second one that decides it, halfway there on the Mirkwood path and slightly apart of the rest that he finds himself braiding small Heliotrope's on the black and white locks of hair, when their owner presents him with a ragweed branch. For a second he its baffled to be presented by a weed but only for a second, then he alternatively pales and reddens, as if his body was unsure if to react to the knowledge he has been making a fool of himself or to the meaning of this new gift. He settles for trying to run away and hide his shame, but between the prohibition of leaving the path and the superior fitness of his companion he doesn't make it very far. He gets kisses and reassurances instead of the laughs he would expect while being held against a tree trunk, in the end it turns that while dwarfs do indeed court with stones and metal, hobbits are not the only ones to court with flowers and this dwarf's have been around men's a lot, also that flower language its the kind of thing a prince would be expected to know.

They have no time to relish on their love cloud before everything goes to hell yet again in a rush, and even when Bilbo finds him again on the elvish dungeons, after thinking him lost, he dares not to slip anything bigger than a small fragile dandelion trough cell bars. Is till Esgaroth that they manage to do time and Bilbo gets him red Carnations, from the same flower stand Thorin fills his short curls with the white version, there is a lot of sun that day, Thorin's hands are warms and Bilbo smiles till it hurts, the memory's of that day would carry him when the darkness that would follow threatened to choke him.

There are no flowers in Smaug fields, nor there are any on Erebor and even after the dragon death Bilbo its cold and lonely. Thorin drapes a glittering white metal chain-mail over him and sits him on his knees while on the throne, but his eyes glitter in gold and his gaze is lost, so far away Bilbo fears he cant reach him anymore. Its that light what stops Bilbo from giving him the opalescent secret hiding in his backpack, a light that turned worse with each passing day and with the threat of war looming in the horizon. Thorin doesn't even notice he its gone when he gives Bard the Arkenstone, his mind lost in gold and war, but his words don't hurt less for it and Bilbo spends his banishment days eating bilberry's till his lips bleed and his tears dry. There are no flowers in war either, just black over black, and red all over the earth, so much red, red like the carnations, on that day that now seems a lifetime ago, red and white carnations, red and white like Fili and Kili, white bandages with flowers of blood, lying like broken dolls on the healers quarters. Red and white like Thorin, dying, his blue eyes finally free of the light of gold and war, Thorin kissing Bilbo's tears away, apologizing and consoling as if he were not the one on death's door, Thorin doing a bay leaf's crown to rest on Bilbo's curls, joking he'd asked Nori to steal them from the kitchen, Thorin kissing him, Thorin eyes closing.

Bilbo didn't know how much time he ran, since he found it impossible to gaze behind the veil of his tears, but by the time Gandalf found him you couldn't even see the battlefield, just the lonely mountain looming over them and Mirkwood on the horizon, he begged to be taken home. He refused to think of gold or flowers, and every familiar spot on the way back was just another layer of shadow on his heart, not even Rivendel gave him more cheer that the tough he was close to home, finally. He had to hunt for his furniture and his garden was ruined but that just gave him a good excuse to redo it, and if the whole of the shire quickly grew worried that Mr. Baggins was sullen and silent and that his garden only had Mourning Bride's, Asphodel's, Cyclamen's and had just planted a small Locust tree, well that was their problem not his. And if he dreamed of red and white carnations dripping in blood, And if his days grew darker and he found himself touching the ring way to much, well, that was nobody's problem but his.

In the overall it was a wonder he didn't straight up die when a year after his return, 12 dwarfs appeared uninvited for dinner and Thorin was late but he brought a forget-me-not bouquet, so he just fainted. They married on April 25 with orange blossoms in their hair.

\------------------------------------------------

See below for meaning in order of apareance:

Gloxinia -Love at First Sight

Fennel -Force, Strength, Worthy of all praise.

Fern -Fascination

Agrimony -Thankfulness, Gratitude

Lily (White) -Virginity, Purity,It's Heavenly to be with You, Majesty,

Gardenia -You're Lovely, Secret Love

Honey Flower -Sweet and secret love.

Daisy -Innocence, Loyal Love, I'll Never Tell, Purity

Heliotrope -I adore you; Devotion

Ambrosia(ragweed) -Your Love is Reciprocated

Dandelion -Faithfulness, Happiness

Carnation (Red) -My Heart Aches For You, Admiration

Carnation (White) -Sweet and Lovely, Innocence, Pure Love

Bilberry (OED: aka whortleberry) Treachery

Bay Leaf -I change but in dying.

Scabious Mourning Bride -Widowhood

Asphodel -Regrets beyond the grave.

Cyclamen -Resignation and Good-bye

Locust Tree (green) -Love beyond the grave

Forget-me-not -True Love, Memories

Orange blossom -Innocence, Eternal Love, Marriage and Fruitfulness

  
\------------------------------------------------

  
Original prompt:  
http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=519358#t519358


	3. Penance

A fill for this: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3393.html?thread=6300481#t6300481  
Possible Triggers: Alzheimer/Dementia parallels 

\-------------------------------------------

Bofur remembers hating him, no, hate its to strong a word, he was annoyed by him, frustrated even, with the arrogance of those that have lived to few but enough to believe it a lot. He remembers laughing with the other kids, because he was dumb and clumsy, because he could barely speak and forgot things, metalhead they called him, even if Bombur made a point of scolding him. He remembers trowing tantrums because they wouldn't go to the country fair that year, the toys were ugly, the hat to big and silly or because there would be no dessert. He now wonders if he didn't remember of if he simply didn't care of all the nights the man spent rocking him after they were homeless and he wouldn't stop crying for a mother that would never come back. Or that he would go for long periods of time and come back bringing gifts he accepted as if they were his rightful due, that he would go out after his tantrums and do Mahal knows what to get him fair tickets, or toys or dessert they didn't had money for. Bifur would call him the sun under the mountain

Sometimes he wonders if he expected all those things as payment for the attacks, if the dichotomy was to much for his kid self to grasp. That the dwarf with beast eyes that trowed furniture across the room screaming in Khuzdul was not the same one that would sit by the fireside to play knights and dragons with him, or maybe he was, he had no way to know. But he did know that on those moments hiding from him he hated him, and he would hate him more afterwards when the storm had passed and he would crumble crying on the floor begging forgiveness for something he didn't even remembered and could only piece together from the room destruction and the fear on his cousins eyes. Bombur would always forgive him with tears on his eyes, but he would remain hidden for hours no many how broken stuttered apology's and sweet treats were offered on his direction, he would usually pee himself for weeks afterward and dodge any kind of affection, then refuse to say goodbye when he had to leave away to work feeling a vindicating glee at the hurt on the other eyes and retreating back.

With time the attacks get less serious but longer, Bifur can't go away to work anymore but they have grown older in the meantime so its now on their shoulders to bring gold home. Bombur works in a pub kitchen and its saving for a wedding with a barmaid as silly and fat like him, while he works in the mines on the day and learns to make toys with Bifur by night. He is still to young and gets easily exasperated when his cousin inevitably trails off on the lessons, inevitably the exasperation begins to turn into a dull ache of desperation. Bombur marries and moves away, he brings the children to meet Bifur as they appear and makes sure they always have food, Bofur stops mining and makes toys on full time, he find's the hat one day cleaning and never stops wearing it, Bifur smiles at it on one of the rare moments he is there. One of those times they curl together by the fire and play knight and dragons for the last time, they cling together and Bofur chants "I love you" till he cant speak or breath anymore and falls asleep, the other its gone again by morning. It takes months before he finds the letter saying goodbye, and he breaks again, in front of a dwarf that cant understand him yet tries to hug him clumsily then gifts him a shinny scarab shell he found.

He finds himself wondering why he never said thank you, Bombur tells him that he knew, its not enough. Bifur remains a gentle shadow, always close at arm reach yet lost forever, Bofur has never liked dichotomy's. The valar's have played them cleverly, turning the tables on the characters of the play but Bofur its not a child anymore. He keeps the letter by his heart and the hat on his head, translates both ancient dwarvish and hand gestures, asks the elves for flowers to dinner and accepts little bird skulls for gifts, Bofur smiles and pays penance.


End file.
